


Green

by colonelborkmundus



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Drabble, Gen, Sparring, old fic is old, surprisingly not yuffie/vincent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:33:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonelborkmundus/pseuds/colonelborkmundus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just them and the trees, and the birds watching with avid interest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Green

_On sparring and grass, put simply in a nutshell._

Slash, dodge, parry, parry. She sidesteps quickly to avoid his incoming blow and lashes back at him, nearly missing her footing in a clumsy, un-ninja-like manner. The clink of her shuriken against his claw rings out in the clearing. It is just them and the trees, and the birds watching with avid interest. Sweat beads heavily on her brow; it is getting harder for her to catch her breath. Despite being devastingly old (and handsome), morbid, and depressing, he has proven himself to be adept at wielding a shuriken, borrowed off her for today, and it sort of pisses her off.

She's a ninja, damnit. Damn him and his Turk training.

The aching in her muscles scream at her to stop while she still can. They have been at this for a while now and she'd much rather that they just stop instead of having her own ass handed to her at her own game.

It's an off day. She would own his ass any other day.

"Let's stop," she manages to say, setting the Conformer into the ground.

The next thing she knows, she is in an undignified heap on the earthen floor of the clearing with labored breathing, wondering if the sky has always been this blue, even through the screen of tree branches.

It feels so good. The grass feels soft, lush, and refreshing against her cheek. Everything is green, green, green all around her - except for the violent red, swishing cloak of Vincent Valentine.

Yuffie closes her eyes and lets out a half-crazed laugh. Right now the least of her worries is the threat of ultimate destruction hanging like a madman's pendant in the sky.

It was funny how they were all so close yet so far.


End file.
